by Anya Sharpe
I relax my grip on her arms and pull back, exchanging my grimace with a sympathetic smile. “It is over, Morgan. I’m sorry. It just is. Go home. Take a bath. Regroup. Move on.” I let go and step away. “And, now leave.”
She’s angry and defeated. But she does turn and slam the door behind her.
Moments later, it opens again. I groan at the thought of another round with Morgan. Instead, I’m surprised when Jamie walks in.
“Wow. Dramatic stuff, huh?” He’s grinning, which makes me kind of want to punch him. Probably because I have the burning need to punch someone.
“You heard?”
“Everything. I saw Morgan enter the building as I was arriving. I followed her up and stood outside the door and listened. Hope you don’t mind.” He doesn’t even bother to look embarrassed.
“Nah. Probably a good thing. Witnesses and all.” I wish I had a chair. I want to sit down. I’m drained. A beer might be good right about now as well.
“She ran you through the ringer. You’ve made the best decision, Derrick. No matter what happens with Erynne, you and Morgan had to stop. Your career would have ended up on the line along with your marriage.”
Wincing, I nod. He’s right. This whole ugly mess needs to be dissolved. The hard part is over. “I hope she doesn’t keep her promise to file a harassment suit against me.”
Jamie speculates for a second or two before asking, “Do you have all of the documentation you claimed? Or were you blowing smoke?”
“I have it. All of it. Including pictures. I wanted to get rid of the reminders, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t go quietly.”
She didn’t.
****
Me: Hey, can I have your new address? I want to bring over something for you this evening.
Erynne: Stop by the office.
Me (sighing): Please. I’d rather not do this at the office. I promise I will be on my best behavior. No funny stuff. Or otherwise.
Long pause between texts.
Erynne: Fine. I hope I don’t regret this.
Me: You won’t. Have someone else with you if you don’t trust me.
A few hours later, the taxi drops me off in front of a swanky, high-end building. I ask the cab driver to double-check the address.
How the hell is she affording this kind of place? This neighborhood?
The question reverberates like an echo in my head as I take in the plush lobby. Even the fucking elevator is sweet.
“The nineteenth floor, she said. Can’t wait to see this.” The car stops at nineteen and I get out. The tiny lobby is nicer than our whole goddamned apartment. It’s not hard to figure out which one is hers—there are only two on the floor. I ring the bell.
Holy hell, she looks so damned good. She’s wearing in a tight plum skirt, faux leopard print pumps, and a creamy short-sleeve blouse. Her beautiful hair is piled artfully on top of her head in a sleek twist. What kind of fool was I? The biggest kind, apparently.
“Hey,” she says, standing back. “Come on in.”
I step in, engulfed by her appearance. So much so, the opulence of her apartment almost escapes me. I shouldn’t be staring at her, but I can’t stop.
“You look amazing, Erynne.” Meanwhile, my heart is ripping itself into tiny shreds. Fool. Fool. Fool.
She blushes and ducks her head before moving toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee?”
The full force of the surroundings hits me. “Holy shit, Erynne. How the hell can you afford this place?” I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging wide open. This apartment is not only almost twice as large as ours, but stunning. Both our salaries combined wouldn’t allow us to live in something this impressive.
“Oh.” She has the grace to sound a little embarrassed. “A friend is letting me stay here for a while since it was vacant.” Again, she blushes.
“Since when do you have such rich friends?” I’m being nosy. But, hell…
“Well, the dad owns the building. He pretty much insisted.” She changes the topic and brings two glasses of water from the kitchen over to a set of contemporary leather sofas, one purple, the other gray, and motions for me to join her.
Still shocked by her plush apartment, I shake my head, and sit on the gray one while taking in the fantastic city view.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Derrick?”
I refocus my attention on Erynne, who is visibly uncomfortable in my presence. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Are you living here by yourself?”
A flash of anger sweeps across her face, making me cringe. She sits up straight and glares at me.
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I meant do you have a roommate. A girlfriend or something.” I back-pedal and try for a sympathetic expression. “I didn’t expect you to be living someplace like…this…”
She nods, understanding. “Yes, just me. By myself. What did you want, Derrick?”
I extract an envelope from my jacket pocket and set it on the glass coffee table, sliding it closer to her.
“I, uh, dismantled the apartment. The other one. I sold all the fixtures to a club.” This uncontrollable stammering is embarrassing. The whole conversation is awkward for both of us. “I wanted to give you the money from the sale. To help you do…whatever.”
A crimson blush creeps up her neck, her eyes are wide and glassy, and her mouth falls open.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she finally says.
“No. I’m not.”
“That’s almost as disgusting as you having the apartment in the first place, Derrick. I don’t even want to touch that money, much less keep it.” She blinks rapidly, hands fisted in her lap, trying to contain her emotions. Honestly, it didn’t occur to me the money would repel her. I was too busy being guilty.
“I guess I deserve that. Please reconsider. I’d feel better knowing you got something good out of the mess I made of things. I don’t want to keep the money. I’ll even give half to a charity of your choice. I disrupted your whole world. Let me help you rebuild.” I’m sincere, and I hope she recognizes my intent.
“Donate it all to a charity, Derrick. I can’t take it. Anything I would do with the money would be a constant reminder I don’t want or need.” She’s less angry, more like sad now.
With a fingernail, she scoots the envelope back to me.
“I ended everything,” I blurt out. “The apartment is gone. It’s over with Morgan. Jamie moved her to the other office. She admitted to setting me up and blackmailing me to get me away from you. Jamie overheard us talking, which was good because she threatened to file a sexual harassment lawsuit against me.”
“Jesus, Derrick.”
“Fortunately, I recorded the conversation.” I pause and take in Erynne for what may be the last time in a long while. I know the answer but ask anyway. “Is it really over for us? Are you sure we can’t try to mend things?”
She slowly shakes her head, frowning, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “It’s over, Derrick. I can’t. Trying again is asking too much. If you care at all, make this whole process painless, please.”
I stand, as does she, and we move toward the door. Before leaving I turn to her.
“I still love you, Erynne. I always will. I’m sorry I fucked up so much. I wish I could take everything back and make different decisions. I truly do.”
She doesn’t say anything else.
As I exit one elevator in the lobby, I notice a sharply dressed man stepping on the other. He turns, places a key in a slot, turns it. Then, the door closes.
Evan Giamatti.
Suddenly, I know who the “friend” is who got her the apartment.
The goddamned snake.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Erynne
I’m so close to the door, I can practically touch it with my nose. I step back and study the number. It matches the one on the key. Room four.
Do I dare go in? My heart is pounding like a drum. Sweat beads on my brow and trickles down t
he center of my back. I swallow hard. I’m overcome by an urgent need to open this door.
The door to my future.
Instinctively, my hand steadies. I insert the key, turn the lock, and slowly it opens.
I’m bathed in warm, happy, bright light as I enter the white room. Joy overtakes every emotion in my body, as if my soul is being wrapped in strong, loving arms. I’ve never felt better in my whole life.
Around me gossamer white curtains hang down randomly, creating an ethereal, dreamy effect.
“I knew you would come.” The voice is deep, sensual, familiar.
I don’t recognize him, though. All I can make out is the image of a tall man dressed only in white linen drawstring pants. He moves toward me in between the sea of fabric. Barefoot. Shirtless, tanned muscles rippling like water with every step.
The face, his smile hold some familiarity. He extends a hand, inviting me to join him.
Our fingers touch at the tips.
Somewhere inside I’m aware I belong with him, and walk toward his soothing, deep voice.
“Things will only get better now. Trust me. Come with me.”
The blaring of a phone alarm jolts me wide awake. Sun streams through the wall of bare windows. I’ve slept soundly, so well I actually can say I feel refreshed.
In a daze, I wander to the kitchen. While the coffeemaker as it does its thing, I attempt recall the fuzzy details of the dream. They escape me, but I’m filled with a sense of ease, of serenity.
The aroma of the coffee wakes me from my near trance. I pour a cup and return to my room to shower and dress for work as I mull over my emotional state.
The overwhelming despair which consumed me for months is no longer a heavy weight. Something about the dream lifted the dark cloud. It’s almost like I can see and feel again. In a good way.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I head to the closet and see a genuine, relaxed smile.
Flipping through my clothes, I decide on a light gray pencil skirt that hits an inch or two above the knee and pair it with a solid dusty pink knit top which clings to my curves. I attach a wide leather belt and slip on black heels. I survey my appearance in a large floor-length mirror Marti insisted on installing and silently thank her. The ensemble needs clunky silver jewelry, so I select a cuff bracelet with colorful stones mounted on the face, a plain collar-style necklace and basic hoop earrings to finish things off.
Not quite done, I brush on minimal makeup, including pale pink gloss, and twist my light brown hair up into a messy bun.
My reflection confirms this outfit suits my unusually serene mood.
I’m in a calm, satisfied state, I conclude, as I place the empty coffee cup on the kitchen counter.
In doing so, my gaze falls on the forgotten key, which I pick up. I stare at the four on it until my thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of the doorbell. I’m pretty sure I can guess who’s ringing me at this early hour.
“Good morning, sunshine. I was hoping to offer my services and drive you to the office today.” Clad in a light gray suit, a perfectly pressed white shirt, and a colorful purple, red and yellow patterned tie, Evan is stunning. A flash of warmth rolls through my entire body at the sight of him, and my mouth goes dry.
“Whoa…you look fantastic.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
He chuckles, taking my hand in his, as if it were an everyday gesture. “Not nearly as dazzling as you, my dear.”
We stand staring at each other—well, more like admiring—for several heartbeats. Evan breaks the spell.
“My key is in your hand.” The teasing grin of his I adore shines down at me. “Were you planning to come pay me a visit this morning?”
For some reason, I’m flustered by his teasing. “No! I, uh, it was on the counter and…”
He laughs and pulls me closer. “I was razzing you. Come visit any time. You’re always welcome upstairs.”
A wave of uneasiness splashes over me along with heated prickles under my skin as I continue to stare up at him. We’re close enough that the warmth of his body and his distinctive scent play with my senses. I hope I’m not shaking like a teenage girl.
He’s going to kiss me! Oh, My. God.
Yet, I don’t pull away, even though I’m certain I must be visibly trembling. I’m lost in the beautiful blue pools that are his eyes. I can’t blink—only stare as time passes at a snail’s pace. All I hear is the banging of my heart in my chest, the thuds ringing in my ears, and pray I don’t pass out right here, right now, right in front of this devastatingly handsome man who is working some kind of voodoo magic on me.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my foggy brain, I’m thinking, Please kiss me. I want you to kiss me. I so desperately want you to kiss me.
Whatever has shifted, I am seeing Evan in a totally different light. And this is not a bad thing. Holy. Shit.
He doesn’t kiss me.
I lick my lip, and it hits me. He’s speaking to me.
“Erynne? What’s wrong?” The blue eyes are now filled with concern.
Snap out of it!
“I’m…I’m fine.” I shake my head, step back and blink a bunch of times.
What the hell happened?
“Seriously, I’m fine. I…remembered a weird dream I had.” Not exactly a lie.
Evan smiles down at me. “That must have been one helluva dream. You ready to go?”
“Yeah. Yes. Let’s go.”
I manage to make small talk with Evan as he drives us to the office. Perhaps it’s the ability to focus my sights on things outside the car instead of looking directly at him. I may seem normal on the outside, but several thousand butterflies or some other damned thing is making a racket in my stomach.
I’d yell at them to settle down, except Evan would think I’m a lunatic.
“You’re a little rattled this morning. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” I force myself to smile at him, but I can tell he’s not buying it one hundred percent.
****
The office happy hour was changed to Friday. Fine with me. I need to unwind. Three months ago I moved, and today was the last meeting with my attorney for my divorce. She filed the papers, and by early next week, it will be final.
Part of me is sad my marriage from Derrick is almost over, yet there is a huge relief as well. Now I’m able move on and put the past in the past.
We cross the street from the office to our closest hangout, Fielding’s, where we push several high-tops together, and waste no time ordering drinks.
Tonight, Evan sits right next to me, instead of across the table at his usual spot with Gary. Things begin to flutter inside me again. For the last few months, energy has steadily simmered between us. It makes me nervous, yet exhilarated at the same time. In the back of my mind, I can’t shake the tiny illogical voice accusing me of wanting to cheat on my husband. A bigger inner voice is screaming “You go, girl!” I wish both of those voices would shut the hell up.
Gah.
Evan spends a lot of time conversing with Gary, as usual. However, this evening he is more attentive to me, making sure I have a fresh drink, ordering appetizers for this end of the table, leaning in to talk to me.
“What’s with Evan tonight?” Maya murmurs near my ear.
“Dunno. What do you mean?” I’m anxious. I know exactly what she means. Her observation has me shredding the cocktail napkin in front of me.
“He can’t keep his eyes off you. I think he’s scooted his chair closer a few times, too.”
“No.” I check. He has.
“Erynne, I swear the guy’s got a thing for you. He has for a long time.” Maya lowers her voice, thankfully, before offering this insight.
“Nah. You’re imagining things.” Or is she?
“Nope. He’s waiting. When the coast is clear, he’s gonna strike.” She finishes off her cosmo and winks at me. “Mark my words.”
As if on cue, Evan casually leans into me, plac
es his arm around the back of my chair and whispers into my ear. “Have dinner with me.”
Thank God, I hadn’t taken a sip of my drink. I would have spit it out all over myself. Or him.
“What did you say?”
“I asked you to have dinner with me. Tonight.”
“Uh…”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
For the benefit of those around us, he says loudly, “Of course. I’d be happy to give you a ride home, Erynne. I was about to leave though. Are you ready now?”
Maya snorts behind me, and I want to smack her.
“Um, sure. Thanks. Appreciate it.” I gather my wits. “I hope it’s not too much out of your way. I can always catch a cab.”
“Nonsense. I’m headed in that direction.” A ridiculous thing to say since we live in the same building. Of course, most people don’t know this.
Maya snorts again. I glare at her as Evan stands and offers me a hand. The devilish look on his face is hot, but I think I still want to kick him in the ankle.
“Don’t leave without a hug,” Maya tells me, so I lean over, and she whispers into my ear. “Strike one! Have fun, girlie. Call me later.”
“I may not be speaking to you later.” She giggles.
As we walk outside, I demand and explanation. “What the hell happened in there, Evan?”
“I’m hungry. I want dinner.” Shrugging, he unlocks the car and opens the door for me. We take off down the street and I try again.
“Why did you ask me to go to dinner with you?” He’s not getting out of this so easily, dammit.
“Because it’s no fun to dine alone—especially where we’re going.” His eyes are steady on the road, but I note the amusement he can’t hide.
“What about Lance? You could have called Lance. You always go out to eat with Lance.” There. That was reasonable.
“Nope.”
“What? Nope? What does that mean?” I’m getting a little aggravated, but before I can say anything else, he sweeps into a parking space in front of a restaurant, cuts the engine and hops out.